Falling Slowly
by ChloeD
Summary: Before the Avengers, before Loki came to Earth, before the world needed a team, there were just two agents who wanted to clean their ledgers. Two agents who might have accidently fallen in love and two agents whose love put them in danger. Love hurts, more for some than others. Pre-Avengers. Clintasha/BlackHawk


**AN: This is my first fanfiction story. I desperately hope I'm good. I love the idea behind Clint and Natasha's romance. There is something about two people who so desperately need to be forgiven having someone who understands. There is something about a love that goes so far beyond protecting someone with your life. Clint and Natasha understand each other at such a basic level that what they have is so much more than love, but whatever the thing that they share is they fell into it….they just fell slowly.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Clint, Natasha, SHIELD, or anything recognizable. I wish I did, but alas I do not.**

**Warning: Curse/Cuss/Bad words will be used in this story. Clint and Natasha are two adults and two trained killers. Vulgar language is almost mandatory for any type of military service.**

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Clint had the patience of a saint. It was about the only personality trait he shared with saints but nonetheless there it was. Sitting motionless on the top of a building looking through the sight of a sniper rifle for days through the raging heat of New York City or the frequent rains for days at a time was no one's idea of fun but for the most part Clint could even enjoy the solitary hours. This time, however, Clint's patience was running out. One shot, one kill meant waiting for the right moment but if the right moment didn't come soon Clint was going to lose it. He was nearing the point where all he could think about was moving.

Victor Mundo's apartment was nineteen stories up and his living room had four large windows. The windows seemed like a poor choice for an arms dealer like Mundo but it worked out well for Clint's line of sight. Through the window to the far right Clint could see Mundo's front door open. He held his breath and prayed with all his might that this time Mundo would have come home alone but the man's redheaded girlfriend walked through the door first and Mundo was close behind her. Clint fumed silently and contemplated, not for the first time, simply taking out the redhead with her arms dealing boyfriend. He'd never actually do it. She was innocent and he'd started to feel bad for the woman that Mundo treated like his personal punching bag when he'd had too much bourbon.

Clint examined her face through the scope. Mundo was well known for bringing home beautiful women all the time but this woman was an impressive catch even for him. She had beautiful bright red hair the color of the garnets Mundo had bought her two days ago and delicate features with full lips. More than any of that was the air around her that just breathed passion. Mundo stumbled into his desk and Clint's attention swung back to him. He already had a crystal tumbler in his hand and was pouring a glass of scotch for himself. Clint guessed by his balance, or lack thereof, that it wasn't the first glass of the night. Mundo said something that made the woman run over to him and put her hand on his arm. He turned around and smashed the bottom of the crystal tumbler into her head. She crumbled to the ground clutching her forehead. Mundo laughed and refilled his glass that had spilled all over the woman's clothes when he hit her. She grabbed the letter opener off the desk next to her and Clint marveled at the cold expression on her face he'd never seen the typically smiling woman wear. The moment was over and she set the letter opener down and smiled again. Much slower this time she put her hand on his arm. Mundo laughed again, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard on the mouth. He pulled her away into the bedroom. The moment the door shut Clint let out a sigh.

The image of the woman's emotionless face drifted to the front of his mind and something in the far reaches of his mind stirred. Something in the back of his mind made him think for the first time since he'd first seen her that maybe he'd seen her before. Clint had stared at this woman for four days, could he have known her identity the whole time and not realized it? Her name was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite reach it. He hesitated and then disassembled the rifle. With one last glance at the empty windows he walked away from his perch.

Twenty minutes later Clint was sitting in the hotel computer chair with his feet crossed on the desk. Coulson, in typical Coulson fashion, was lecturing him on rash decisions like walking away from a perch before the job was done. "If Fury knew you walked away because you might know who Mundo's girlfriend is he'd shoot you and then he'd shoot me for recruiting you. For a sniper you have a nasty tendency to be unreliable."

"I always do the job," Clint defended himself.

"But you do it on your terms," Coulson said.

Clint frowned. "What's wrong with that?"

Coulson sighed dramatically. "Snipers aren't supposed to set the terms."

"I'm not your everyday sniper," Clint said. "Look, I did call you for a reason."

"I know, you want me to look into Mundo's girlfriend," Coulson said with a snort.

Clint tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk. "Phil, I've got a feeling about this."

"Don't call me Phil," Coulson said. He sighed again. "I'll do it I just won't be happy about it. What do you have for me to go on?"

"She's a redhead, pale skin, grey-green eyes, absolutely gorgeous…" Clint trailed off.

"And?" Coulson asked.

Clint cleared his throat. "And that's it."

Coulson scoffed. "You want me to search the database for an attractive redhead?"

"Yeah, with grey-green eyes," Clint replied. "I know how this sounds. Would you just look and see what comes up?"

Clint could hear some clicking over the phone as Coulson did his part of the job. Clint had heard rumors that once upon a time Coulson had been SHIELD's golden boy field agent but something had made him choose a desk job. Some people speculated it was cowardice or fear but Clint has suspicions that there was more to the story than that. "Clint?"

"Still here, Phil," Clint replied.

"I got a hit," Coulson said. "And don't call me Phil."

"You got a hit?" Clint asked.

"You sound surprised. Didn't you think I could get an ID off your description?" Coulson asked. Clint could hear the sarcasm. "On a serious note, the hit from your description…just, I'm going to send you a picture."

Fifteen seconds later his phone vibrated. Clint opened the message and the face of Mundo's girlfriend filled the screen. Unlike her usual smile with Mundo this picture had her wearing that same cold expression. "That's her, Phil. Who is she?"

"Don't call me Phil," Coulson replied. "She's your new target. Clint Barton, meet the Black Widow."

"Damn," Clint said. "I knew I'd seen her before."

"Take her out as your first priority and then take Mundo out, but only if you can get him after her. She's a merciless killer. We want her off the streets more than Mundo," Coulson said.

Coulson was a fan of Captain America and, although Clint knew he was far from Captain America, it hurt when his mentor and handler called assassins; a profession Clint clearly was a part of, merciless killers. Coulson didn't mean to be hurtful he just believed in a black and white world and Clint, unfortunately, lived in the grey. "Can't I kill her after she kills Mundo? Then I know he's dead and I can still get her."

"You might lose her if you wait until she completes her mission," Coulson replied.

"But Mundo-" Clint pressed.

Coulson interrupted. "Is not nearly the menace that the Black Widow is. Any chance to get someone like the Black Widow off the street is a chance we're willing to take even if it means letting Mundo go. Just, for once, follow orders."

Clint ground his teeth together. He didn't feel right letting a bastard like Mundo get away to kill someone else. "Yeah, okay."

"Good luck," Coulson said.

Clint snorted. "I don't need luck, Phil, I have skill."

"Don't get cocky and don't call me Phil," Coulson replied and hung up.

That's how Clint found himself back on the roof across the street from Mundo's apartment again. He muttered to himself, "Freaking fantastic."

After another three hours of waiting a scantily clad Black Widow led a naked Victor Mundo into Clint's line of sight. Clint scowled at a sight he didn't particularly want to remember but knew was now burned into his memories. He lined Black Widow's head into the sights and counted three…two…she picked up the letter opener and shoved it into Mundo's neck where his jugular would be. Blood spurted out onto the woman's face and shoulders but she didn't flinch back instead shoving it in farther. Mundo's mouth open and closed like that of a fish out of water as he wobbled forward and then back and then finally dropped to the floor looking up at the ceiling with sightless eyes. The blood poured from the wound in his neck making the white carpet around him soaked with red. Clint was shocked but lined Black Widow back in his sights ready to take the shot. Like Coulson said, she could be gone in a moment.

Black Widow yanked the letter opener from Mundo's dead body and wiped the blood off the blade on his chest. Then she reached into the cup of her bra and pulled out a coin, possibly a quarter. She examined the quarter and then placed it in Mundo's empty palm and closed the fingers around it. Clint recognized the gesture from his assignment in Russia. It was traditional for them to place a coin on the body of the deceased person to help them in the afterlife. It was hardly the act of a merciless killer as Coulson had put it. Clint shook himself and lined her head up again and counted three…two…one. Clint didn't pull the trigger, he didn't fire the gun, and he didn't kill the Black Widow. There was something there to save and Clint Barton was going to be the man that saved it or die trying. Because if the Black Widow couldn't be saved then Clint couldn't be saved and if there was no way to save himself then life wasn't worth living. Clint grinned grimly and muttered, "Freaking fantastic."

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Natasha ditched the letter opener in a storm drain on her way to the café. After killing Mundo she'd cleaned up and then changed into a yellow sundress and a pair of yellow pumps. The café was a lovely place to get a nice pumpkin latte so she'd made a habit of going there while on the Mundo assignment. She took her usual seat facing the door, ordered, and then typed up a quick message on her mission-purpose only mobil that the job was done when the waiter walked away. Natasha wasn't thrilled with how this mission had gone. For starters she'd gone into this mission thinking that someone else was going to kill him for her. In fact, every bit of information that the Red Room had sent her had included a note that there was a SHIELD agent sent to kill Mundo and that she was only there to make sure the job got done completely. But the days had stretched into weeks and Natasha had nearly been to the point where she was going to kill the SHIELD agent too for not doing his or her job. She'd been real close to losing it earlier today when he'd hit her with the crystal tumbler. She felt her forehead and the nice bump that was forming. The text from the Red Room that Mundo's death couldn't be held off any longer was possibly the best news she'd ever heard. The bastard had deserved to die. Her phone buzzed with the Red Room's response: Wait three days and return. Natasha sighed; all she wanted to do was go home.

Natasha looked out the café door at the growing darkness and waved over a waiter to pay her check. She finished off her latte and walked out into the dark streets of New York. The streets were full of people even at this hour but Natasha simply ignored them, anxious to get to her apartment and sleep the night away. The trained killer and watchful spy part of her picked up on the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She frowned and kept her eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Her eyes landed on it in a moment. At the end of a dead-end alley was a red hour glass spray painted three feet high and one foot wide on the wall. It was hardly strange for graffiti to litter the alleys of New York City but the symbol itself, the design on the back of the black widow spider, and not the graffiti was what bothered her. Natasha was not one to believe in coincidences but the only other option was that someone knew who and where she was. Natasha turned down the alley for a closer inspection. The paint was dry and underneath the hourglass was a quote in the same red paint that said: Death is the mother of beauty.

There was a soft thump behind her and she turned to see a young man, not much older than herself, with of all things an arrow pointed in her direction. He grinned at her. "Would you believe I had to pay some street kid fifty bucks to get that on the wall?"

"Welcome to New York City," Natasha replied.

"And that was with the mere hope that you'd see it and come investigate. Part of me was just absolutely sure that you'd pass right by and then what a waste of fifty bucks that would have been," The man said. He motioned the balcony above him. "And exactly how long does it take to drink coffee? I waited up there for you to finish for two hours."

Natasha ignored his question and motioned to the artwork behind her but never took her eyes off of the man and the arrow. "It's poetic."

"It's Wallace Stevens," he replied. "I thought you'd appreciate the truth behind the words, Black Widow."

Natasha was hardly surprised to hear her name slip from the man's lips after seeing the symbol and the words on the wall. She took in the arrow and then remembered the information from the Red Room about the SHIELD agent. She smiled, "You're Hawkeye."

"The one and only," He said with a slight tip of his head. "I see my reputation precedes me."

Like Natasha, this Hawkeye had earned himself quite the reputation of being dangerous, coupled with his signature arrow to the heart and even Natasha was wary. If she could get her hand to the gun at her back she could take this man out and go home a hero for killing the mighty Hawkeye. "That it does. Are you here to kill me?"

"That's what they keep telling me," he replied. "But I do have a question first."

"What?" Natasha asked.

"Do you like your job?" He asked.

"Excuse me?" Natasha was honestly thrown at the question.

"Do you enjoy being an assassin?" He explained.

Natasha looked him over again observing his blonde hair, tanned skin, and the neutral expression on his face. "I'm a spy not an assassin. If you're asking if I enjoy killing people, well, as much as the next killer."

"Well, I happen to be the next killer," Hawkeye said. "And I'd like to know how you specifically feel about killing people."

Natasha put her hands behind her back and grabbed her gun but waited to bring it around. He did still have an arrow pointed at her and if the rumors were true he could shoot her faster than she could get her gun aimed. She conceded to answering. "I do not dislike killing people but I do not enjoy it either. I don't get my jollies from leaving dead bodies in my wake, no."

Hawkeye smiled and it wasn't the cocky grin he'd be wearing thus far but a genuine smile. "Good."

"I'm sorry?" Natasha asked.

"You should be," Hawkeye said. "The man you killed tonight. He was evil, horrible, and fully deserved to die. But not every one of the people you've killed was like him."

"Look," Natasha said. Images of people she'd killed flickered in her mind. She knew that the work was dirty but she was supposed to do it. It was an honor to serve her country. He followed orders just like her. "If you're here to kill me just do it."

"Do you want to die?" he asked.

Natasha hesitated and replied, "No."

"But you don't want to live either," He said. It wasn't a question but even if it had been Natasha probably wouldn't have been able to respond. "You know that some of the people you have killed did not deserve it."

"They all had to die," Natasha said.

"Not for the safety of innocents," He said. "You killed them because someone, somewhere deemed them in the way of their goals."

"They had to be eliminated," Natasha said.

"You killed them because they told you it was for the good of your country," he said.

"My people will remain safe because of me," Natasha said.

"You killed them because someone told you to," he said.

Natasha ground her teeth together. "I had orders."

"Yeah, orders," Hawkeye said. He pulled out a piece of paper. "And SHIELD intercepted your next set of orders. I've got them right here. Seems like you'll be headed after Mundo's niece in Germany next. She's adorable in this picture with her teddy bear. I bet she got it for her tenth birthday. Her party was three days ago you know?"

Natasha felt bile rise in her throat. Natasha didn't hate killing people but some were harder than others. Without realizing she pulled the gun in front of her. Hawkeye tensed. She said, "Do it. Kill me right now."

"What?" Hawkeye said.

"You have an arrow pointed at my chest. You never miss. Kill me," Natasha said.

"Listen, I'm not about to play out some death wish of yours," Hawkeye said.

Natasha cocked the gun and put her finger on the trigger. "Shoot me now or I'll kill you, hide the body, and kill those kids next."

Hawkeye hesitated and then lowered his weapon. "Come back with me."

"What?" Natasha asked.

"Switch sides, join the good, people do it all the time," Hawkeye replied.

"People who aren't me," Natasha said.

Hawkeye put the arrow in his quiver and attached the bow to his back. "I know you've got a lot of red in your ledger. I get that- but you can fix it. You can wash the red out. Come back with me and do the right thing. Protect the world, fight for the right side."

He was unarmed, unassuming, and unwilling to kill her. Now was the perfect time to strike. She counted three…two…and she lowered her weapon. "Okay."

"Okay?" Hawkeye asked with an audible sigh of relief.

"Okay," Natasha confirmed. "I'm ready to come in."

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**AN: So, yeah, that's Chapter 1. Hope you enjoyed it. Just a note: I plan to update every Thursday evening at nine-thirty EST. Review please! I'd love to hear what you thought.**


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